The Seventh Night
by Solora Goldsun
Summary: He was always watching him. Always with him. Always there. That night, he was going to be so much more... Van Kleiss/Caesar. Rated T for MAJORLY passionate kissing. Not a Lemon. Takes place before the nanite event.


**Hi, everyone. I just wanted to say that- ARGHGHGHGH! *BANGING! HEAD! INTO! WALL!* Okay...sorry... I'm doing something that I usually don't do: I'm trying to STOP the Inspiration Mallet from hitting me! The idea it's hitting me with goes against everything I've been shown to believe in in every GR fanfiction I have ever written. That's right, homeys. I'm writing a Romance oneshot with Van Kleiss. *hangs head in shame* I won't go into detail on how my friend is turning me into a fangirl...or how I'm starting to refer to him as Vanny rather than Van Pedo... I'm just gonna type! From what I saw of the new episode, Caesar (the awesome hot nerd of hotness) and Van Kleiss have a definite past. And the Mallet demands that I make it a pairing. GAH! Here goes!**

CAESAR'S POV

"Night, Rex." Caesar gently stroked his little brother's hair. "Sleep well."

Little Rex's relaxed face flashed a tired smile. "G'night Caesar, mi armano."

"Hermano." The older boy corrected, smiling and planting a kiss on Rex's forehead. "Sleep well."

"You too!" The kid chirped before rolling over and falling asleep almost instantly.

Caesar smiled dryly to himself. 'Not much chance of that...' There was still a lot of work he needed to get done. This was the best time to do it. Everyone was asleep, so he could roam the lab in peace. That was what he needed most: peace and quiet. Time for his mind to relax and wander.

Unfortunately, fate did not have such gifts in store for him that night.

He should have just turned around and retired to his room the instant he felt that prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He didn't. He simply kept working, forcing himself to not turn around and lock his eyes on the source of that odd, uncomfortable sensation.

Eventually, the burning feeling on his skin became unbearable and he abandoned his microscope, walking through the doorway, staring straight ahead, feeling that sensation move with him.

The same thing happened the following night. Caesar came down to do some extra research, to take a look at a few more of the nanite prototypes. Again, he felt that annoying prickling traveling across his skin, making him feel cold inside. He refused to answer to that silent invitation that was being transmitted through the air, that unspoken thought that melted into his senses like an icicle.

He wasn't going to do it. No way!

He repeated that thought every time he entered the lab, determined to remain focused on his work. On the third night. On the fourth night. On the fifth night. On the sixth night.

So it went until the seventh night. By that time, he was almost used to the feeling of that sweet-tongued message moving across the nape of his neck and the area between his shoulder blades. It was one of those things that became a companion: not wanted, not asked for, not liked, but constant, unwavering, and understandable. Because of this, Caesar actually felt more or less prepared to meet it this time.

He certainly was _not_ prepared for what met him that night.

Standing in the lab, leaning casually against the table, reddish-black eyes glinting, a coy smirk on his face, was the man responsible for these many uneasy nights: Van Kleiss.

'Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away!' Caesar thought wildly, knowing full well that he was kidding himself. Van Kleiss wouldn't go away. He never did. He was always there, working alongside him during the day, memorizing him from a distance during the night. No, he wouldn't leave. All Caesar could hope was that whatever his coworker had planned was brief and painless.

Setting his jaw, he walked toward the table, as if it was just any other night. As if Van Kleiss was simply a being lurking in the darkness, nothing more than a shadow. That infuriating smirk widened as Caesar passed and those eyes followed him.

"You've been ignoring me, Caesar." That honeyed voice slipped into his ear, wrapping a soft blanket around his mind. He shook off the feeling quickly, like shaking water out of your hair.

"What makes you say that?" Caesar forced his voice to sound calm, nonchalant.

Shivers shot down his spine as Van Kleiss chuckled lightly. "My dear boy... I am not so dense. Our eyes have not met in days."

'Boy?' Caesar thought with a brief flash of indignation. Van Kleiss wasn't _that_ much older than-

All thought stopped as a puff of warm, moist air caressed the side of his neck. A cool, uncalloused finger traced the other side. "I'm not sure if I can handle such denial for much longer..." His low voice was a low rumble, a purr almost.

Caesar flinched away from Van Kleiss and shoved him with one hand. "B-Back off!"

Van Kleiss simply smiled and took a step forward. "We've been playing this game for so long. It's beginning to bore me." He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, his eyes glittering like two blackened rubies. "Why don't you just admit defeat?"

"I d-don't know what you're t-talking about!" Caesar protested. His heart felt like it was going to hammer right through his chest. 'Shut up!'

"Ah...my dear boy..." Van Kleiss shook his head pityingly. "If that is true, then I wonder how you were chosen to be a member of this team. Surely, you aren't _that_ dense."

"Be quiet!" Caesar pointed an angry, accusing finger at the grinning viper. "Just...be quiet!" He was immediately struck dumb when Van Kleiss took a hold of his wrist, gripping it as if it was a priceless artifact.

"Very well..." He murmured. "If that is your wish...I won't say a word..." His lips brushed the back of Caesar's hand.

The younger man snapped his hand out of his predator's grip and backed away, glaring with the eyes of a cornered animal, ready to fight or flee at any time. He backed into the cabinets.

Flee. That was what he needed to do!

He needed to bolt. Now!

…

So, why wasn't he? He stood like a deer, frozen in a pair of dark red headlights, as Van Kleiss moved steadily closer. 'Run! Run, idiot!' There was enough room to get the heck out of there without even brushing shoulders with him!

Still enough room...

Still enough...

Their shoulders would brush now...

Shoulders...

No escape...

Caesar felt the hard, cold cabinets pressing against his back. That greedy serpent pressing his front. Those eyes...those evil, red, hypnotic...beautiful eyes...

At the last second he turned his head to the side. Something soft pressed against his cheek. He gritted his teeth, scrunching his eyes shut. "I don't want..." He snarled, his voice trailing off.

Van Kleiss leaned over so that he was whispering in Caesar's ear. "Then yell. I won't cover your mouth." He exhaled, making his captive tremble. "Push me away. If you really want to, you'll be able to."

This was true. His hold was firm, but nothing Caesar couldn't wriggle out of. Simple then! Just move away now!

…

Now!

…

Now...? He brought up his hands. Placed them on his captor's chest. Pushed...very weakly. Why was he suddenly clutching that black shirt, holding it as if it was some kind of life line?

Van Kleiss laughed quietly. "I thought not..." He captured the stiff young man's earlobe between his teeth and began to nibble gently.

"Hn!" Caesar tensed before feeling all will to move fading away, melting into the ground. His mind was becoming a foggy haze. His head rested against the cabinet as Van Kleiss's mouth slowly traveled from his ear to his neck.

"That's a good boy..." Van Kleiss's purring voice held a clear hint of triumph.

"C-Cut it...out..." Caesar protested weakly.

"You don't want me to." Van Kleiss mumbled against that tan skin.

"Y-Yes...I..." It was too hard to string any words together.

"Why?" That silky voice was now a sweet croon. "Why should I stop?"

"It...It...hurts...somehow...it feels...bad..." Frankly, Caesar was proud of himself for saying that much!

Van Kleiss nodded his head slowly, his ebony locks tickling the young man's neck and cheek. "I see..." He moved over and moved toward Caesar's bitten earlobe, holding it tenderly between two petal-soft lips. After a few seconds, he let go. "Did that hurt?"

Caesar closed his eyes, breathing a sigh. His grip on Van Kleiss's shirt lightened, but he could still feel the older man's heart beating against his palms. "No..."

Two pale hands came to rest on his waist. "Does this hurt?"

They weren't as cold as he had expected. They were surprisingly warm against his sides."No..."

Caesar felt Van Kleiss's tongue flit across his bottom lip. "Does...this...hurt...?"

Those lips felt like velvet, moving passionately but smoothly. They were so indescribably, unbearably, impossibly soft. Tongues explored, entwined, touched, danced, tasted, caressed. Throats vibrated as low, contented hums and moans crept their way up two sets of vocal chords.

A hand slipped under the fabric of his shirt, warm skin touching warm skin. Caesar broke off the kiss with a gasp of shock. Van Kleiss placed a finger over his lips, his eyes misty but intense. That hand slowly traveled up his abdomen, leaving a trail of fire as it went, and finally came to a rest on the left side of his chest, over his heart. Van Kleiss smiled.

"See?" He whispered, in a voice similar to one used to sooth a terrified child. "No pain."

Too weak from lingering pleasure and emotional exhaustion, Caesar allowed himself to melt against Van Kleiss, resting his head on his chest and feeling his arms encircle him. Warm hands moved in slow circles on his back, making him feel drowsy.

He didn't remember much after that. He knew that Van Kleiss must have carried him to his room, for he woke up in his bed the next morning. He faintly remembered a tender kiss on the forehead and a whispered "Good night." He didn't ponder it for too long, however. There was work to do.

The day passed just as any other day would. Research, work, lunch, research, down time, bed. Only, Caesar didn't go to bed.

It was the eighth night.

He walked down to the lab.

**Humughnghnya... *cough* Nyarghumumum... *clears throat* Gragh- Ahem... HOLY GUACA-FREAKING-MOLE! I...I...I...like this pairing. *smacks self* I...still like it... Van Caesar...Klaesar...I dunno... *bows head* Well, folks... I've gone to the dark side... In all seriousness though, that was really fun to write! That's the closest I've ever gotten to writing a Lemon fic (which this was NOT by the way!), which is kinda freaky for me. Still, you gotta admit it was pretty hot! I seriously was having major fangirl attacks while writing this! Normally, I'd explain what I was going for...but I think I'll let ya'll draw your own conclusions. PLEASE review this one! I gotta know how well I did! Don't flame though. Flames will...um...I can't burn Van Kleiss anymore... I'll just keep burning Gatlocke, the Pedo Pirate. Peace out! ^_^**


End file.
